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By MERVIN MECKLENBURG

My life is reminiscent of an African tale told by the late mythologist Joseph Campbell.

There was a tigress about to give birth who happened on a herd of goats. The tigress was hungry, so she pounced on one of the goats, thinking she would eat.

But she struck with such force that something inside her broke, and she gave birth and died, leaving her cub alone.

The goats took pity on the young cub. They gave it goat milk and taught it to eat grass. And they showed it how to make a goat-like bleat. But of course, no matter how he tried he was not a goat, but a tiger. He starved on the grass, and when he tried to bleat, his voice croaked pitifully.

One day, along came a male tiger. He was hungry, so he pounced on one of the goats, and the other goats fled. But the young cub was not a goat so he did not run, and the male looked up from the goat he had just killed and asked, "Who are you?" But the cub could only bleat.

The male tiger took the club back to his lair and fed the cub meat and blood, and the cub grew strong and at last found his own voice -- the voice of a tiger.

If that the cub returned to live with the goats (After all, they are his only family.), he would wear a goat skin to cover his tiger stripes. He would hide is teeth and claws, and he would speak quietly in a goat voice. There is no sense in frightening the relatives -- right!

That's my life. I rarely let people know I have tiger stripes, and I keep my claws and teeth to myself.

On this Web site, however, I take my goat skin off. My tiger strips flash for everyone to see, and occasionally, I even show my teeth.

Enter if you dare!